Gryffindors, Blood Bonds, & Wednesday Addams
by Larraine Lynch
Summary: Hermione Granger and Wednesday Addams enter a blood bond after meeting at Camp Chippewa.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This is a completed story that I just have to find the time to finish typing. It should once finished be about 5000 words and 3-4 chapters.

I'm giving this an M rating because there is some, what is meant to be, semi-innocent contact between two younger teenagers-basically so no one draws the wrong conclusion-there's a hickey involved. One that is more meant as an Addams claiming rather than a sexual experience. Just want to assure all readers that it is a short scene and I've tried very hard to not cross any lines into very creepy. I think of the relationship as Wednesday and Hermione willingly choosing to enter a betrothal at a young age. Let me know if I failed, and I'll be happy to change something...or remove the story all together for a major rewrite.

The first part of this story will take place at Camp Chippewa. The second half will take place after the final battle at Hogwarts which will be a significant time jump.

* * *

><p><strong>Summer Camp<strong>

The first time Hermione sees Wednesday Addams is at summer camp. Wednesday Addams is pale skin, dark eyes, and a low melodious voice. Hermione Granger is complicated words, bushy hair, and graveyard brown eyes. While the insipid campers sing cheery songs, Hermione and Wednesday talk of witchcraft, burning, serial killers, snakes and Pugsly. Days meld into more days. Campers sing, almost drown, mock, almost drown again, and make camp fires. The pair always gravitate towards each other.

They never talk of lightning bolts and red hair. One day Hermione delivers a brilliant verbal cut against the Barbie clones. Wednesday smirks. She nods her head in approval. Her mother would approve of this one. She is worthy of an Addams.

One night among the faint breathing of pubescent girls, Wednesday Addams slips from her own bed. She slinks silently through the cabin. Twin braids tap out a beat rhythmically against the black silk of her nightgown. The girl can sense the brown eyed witch watching her approach. Wednesday straddles the girl's stomach. Then she leans over. For a moment they share breath. Hermione is mint; Wednesday is blood.

They kiss. Not a passion filled battle of tongues common of Wednesday's own parents, but an innocent brushing of lips. Hermione leans into the kiss. Adrenaline floods through her system. Hermione loves the feel of Wednesday's weight encompassing her. When Wednesday trails from her lips, down her jaw, and onto her neck, Hermione remains still. Hermione craves knowledge the way Wednesday craves darkness. And this moment in the lump filled camp bed with a slight girl resting atop her will bring a different type of knowledge.

Hermione doesn't protest when the lips resting against her skin start to suck and nip. After a moment. Hermione tilts her head to the side. Hermione's slim fingers dig into Wednesday's black nightgown. Moments drag. Wednesday marks the girl—her girl now. The brainless boys at camp haven't discovered the girl yet. Now they never will. When Wednesday rises her black eyes gaze down at the red skin revealed in the moonlight. She traces her finger around the edges of the mark. Wednesday smiles. She grins at the relaxed girl.

Wednesday leans over again. Her twin braids brush against Hermione's arms. She rests her lips against a dainty ear. "Do you know what this means?"

"I," Hermione says. Lost for words, Hermione shakes her head.

"It means you're mine." Cool eyes appraise the frozen teen. "Do you want to be mine?"

Hermione can't help but stare at the girl with her unworldly dark beauty. "What does that mean?"

Wednesday grasps the girl's right hand. She tangles their fingers together. "It means we'll one day be one. Mind. Body. Immortal soul. We'll live together. Practice magic together. And whatever is mine will be yours."

"You'll be mine?"

Wednesday smiles. "Like my father is my mothers."

"Yes." Hermione whispers the word. "Yes."

Wednesday nods. Her black eyes seem to glow with their own light for a moment. For a moment Hermione sees not the young teen, but the powerful woman she will one day be. To Hermione, Wednesday is a promise of eternity.

"Tomorrow we'll do the ceremony. My brother Pugsly can witness."

"I have school in August."

"As do I. When we part know I'll always be with you."

Hermione nods.

"And Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I don't share."

"Neither do I."

* * *

><p>The ceremony takes place days later. Wednesday Addams and Hermione kneel on the floor of the punishment cabin. The wood is hard against Hermione's knees. The virginal white furnishing, Wednesday thinks, would look better splattered in blood.<p>

Pugsly places a teal bear between their bodies before lowering himself to the floor. Wednesday looks down at the infernal bear. She frowns. Did this insipid child's toy really need to be a part of the ceremony? The only thing that Wednesday approves of about the bear is the blood red ribbon around his neck.

This ceremony—Wednesday reflects—is far from perfect. Her ceremony to bind her soul to this brilliant witch should be conducted before the moon surrounded by the dark spirits of her ancestors. Instead they are surrounded by pictures of cutesy baby animals and inane singing about the sound of music emanates from the television.

Hermione smiles. And Wednesday once again focuses on the brilliant witch that she won. The girl's hair spring in every direction in haphazard ringlets. Her tanned skin is a pleasant contrast to her too large front teeth. "Perfectly imperfect," Wednesday says. She doesn't realize the words leak from her lips until a delightful blush creeps up the girl's slender neck to her cheeks.

Hermione is about to respond when a ripping sound emanates through the room. Puglsy holds the head of the bear in his left hand. Wednesday smirks. Hermione raises an eyebrow as Pugsly tosses the head away and claims the ribbon from the headless corpse of the bear. She has long since stopped questioning the neurotic peculiarities of the Addams. He drops the body between them again. He drops the head.

The ceremony begins. Hermione watches fascinated as Wednesday and Pugsly flawlessly execute the complicated magical ceremony. Hermione's magic coils and writhes inside her. She can feel it extending from within her core. Hermione sparkles with red, gold, and bronze magical energy. Wednesday's skin, Hermione notes with fascinating, is roiling masses of silver, green, and deep purple energy.

Wednesday laughs. Hermione's heart pounds. Wednesday is a vision. This, Hermione knows, is Wednesday Addams at her purest. And soon she will be Hermione's mind, blood, and soul. Puglsy hands Wednesday a knife. It is a small pocket knife that Hermione's father bought her before dropping her at summer camp.

Hermione holds out her right hand. Wednesday clasps the hand in hers. Then she slices the palm. Hermione winces at the pain. Then the blood oozes out. Wednesday places the knife in her palm. Hermione curls her fingers over the knife. She can feel the blood from her hands coating the cold steel. Then Hermione slices Wednesday's hand.

They clasp their hands together. Blood mingles. We are one, they say. Then their surges through the room. Hermione feels the breathe pushed from her lungs as Wednesday's magic streams through her mouth and nose. Wednesday's eyes glow an unearthly red. Hermione's fade to the darkest black. Then the magic combines and resettles in its newly joined vessels. Hermione laughs. She jumps to her feet. Kicks the blood soaked teddy bear. Then she grasps the dark witch in her arms. It takes her another hour to realize that the cut on her hand is healed.

End notes: Feel free to comment or ask questions. I'll try to get the rest of this story typed up sometime in the next month. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The End of the Beginning

First off. I apologize for the horrendously long wait. Thank you everyone for the reviews, the favorites, and the constant nudges to continue this. I did plan to, I've just been a tad pre-occupied with other projects. I am back on track to getting this finished. It is currently my second priority, well third if you count work as a priority. I'll at least try to get an update up every two weeks, if the time of that update is delayed due to some unfortunate event, I'll have an update on my profile page telling everyone when the update will be.

Someone asked about the red/black eyes, I explain that a bit in this chapter, basically I saw it as their magic mingling. The color will return to the initial color after some time.

* * *

><p>Hermione Granger does not sleep that night. She burrows her head in Wednesday Addam's neck. Her mind lulled by Wednesday's scent, blood, wild magic, and something new, drifts in a muzzy haze. Her eyes, still black from Wednesday's darker magic, drift open to ensure this beautiful girl does not disappear. Hogwarts grants her children many gifts, but she also takes. The school gradually robs her students of their innocence, their sense of safety. Hermione knows of dozens of spells to coerce the mind and manipulate memories. She's terrified.<p>

Wednesday Addams chose her. Her. Hermione Granger. The nightmare. The bookworm. The teacher's pet. No one has ever chosen her. Not for her. Harry and Ron adopted her. Like deciding to keep a skittish, smart pet after accidentally hitting it with your car. The guilt prompts the adoption. The academic help cements any desire to thrust the animal into the cold once more. Ronald may be a bit thick sometimes, but he knows that Hermione is the difference between a Troll and an Exceeds Expectation. Hermione will die if she awakes to discover Wednesday Addams is not hers, so she does not sleep.

Wednesday Addams eyes blink open. They glow red. Gryffindor red, Hermione whispered after the ceremony. Bravery, courage, reckless stupidity. Wednesday rejects such an insipid interpretation. Blood, knowledge, connection, Wednesday had whispered back. She can feel Hermione's eye lashes brush against her pale neck.

Wednesday rolls onto her side. She secures the witch in her arms. They lay foreheads pressed together. She does not release Hermione that night, not when hundreds upon hundreds of lonely nights await them both. Instead she whispers of childish dreams that she knows will never make the long journey into adulthood: conquering the world through necromancy and time travel to learn from her great-great grandmother.

"I'd like to learn," Hermione says. The phrase escapes on a breathe. The words barely loader than a whisper.

Wednesday trails a finger up the solid green fabric of Hermione's shirt, across the slope of the slender neck, before tracing the slender lips. Moist air brushes against her fingertips. Wednesday shakes her head. "Sunshine and darkness bond," Wednesday begins. Hermione begins to shake her head. "But sunshine must never become the darkness."

"I want to learn," Hermione says.

Wednesday returns her hand to Hermione's waist. She tightens her grip just enough to feel the soft muscles flex before shifting to accommodate the movement. "I need you to be my balance."

"Your Balance?" Hermione pulls away. Wednesday frowns. She misses the solid warmth of the brown-haired witch.

"My anchor to life. Death beckons to any who dare enter his domain." Wednesday pulls herself into Hermione. Warmth. "…and your brightness is intoxicating."

Hermione feels a trickle of relief. Death. Darkness. Wednesday's domain. A domain Hermione would enter for her girl, but not one she particularly desired to pursue. Not when she had seen first-hand such powers wrought. Hermione glances at Wednesday's neck. "I would, you know. For you."

"I will never ask. An Addams has not had such a balance in generations."

"Why?"

"Most white witches cannot grasp the balance. They condemn, rather than respect."

They lay in silence. Hearts beat in sync. Lungs expand, and deflate. Neither sleep. Wednesday's words tumble through Hermione's mind. Wednesday is not willing to waste a moment. She and Pugsly must leave soon. For the balance to remain, Hermione cannot be exposed to the Addams darkness until the light has had time to sear itself into her mind, soul, and magical core. Nineteen. Wednesday could wait until they both reached magical maturity at nineteen. The Addams. Hermione Addams. Her mother will be thrilled.

* * *

><p>End Notes: The next chapter will be the time jump I mentioned in the first post. Sorry. The initial conception did not have Hermione meeting the Addams family at this time. And even with the excitement expressed about the meeting that plan has not changed. You'll have to wait a bit for that moment. Hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Making this quick. Sorry I had a longer thank you to everyone laid out, but my word docs decided to close. For a panicked sec I thought I lost this chapter. All hail words recover file feature.

Thanks all for the favorites, follows, and reviews. I'm thrilled everyone is going with me on this ride. See you in another two weeks.

* * *

><p>"Wednesday Addams?" Ron's voice cracks. "You took an Addams as a lover?"<p>

Ron, Hermione, and Harry sit at Gryffindor table in the middle of a war battered Great Hall. The room is filled with the chattering of the students, professors, and alumni who had volunteered to help restore the old building back to its former glory.

"Ronald, please." Hermione raises her right hand in silent supplication. The fingers quiver. She tries to stop the motion. She cannot. After affects, she knows of the cruciatus curse. One of Bellatrix Lestranges gifts to her.

Ron ignores the motion. He ignores the pale, wane version of the friend in front of him. Ignores the scattering of cuts and bruises both on her face, and no doubt, hiding beneath warm black wizard robes. The red-headed wizard jumps to his feet. The force of the motion causes the bench to screech across the stone floor. "No," Ron says. He shakes his head. Grips at his shaggy red hair.

For a single moment, Hermione, Harry, and Ron are frozen in place. Three friends bound by fear, death, and unquenchable need. The desire for something that none of them could quench. At least not with each other. Damaged…although Hermione and Ron's issues have ever been insidious, supple animals. Slinking, stalking, and scurrying between dark shadows. Fame. The desire to be seen. Love. A thirst for people not within reach.

As the moments tick by, the room falls silent. Heads turn. Curious, world wary, and heart sick minds and hearts who need a distraction. Any distraction from the not so distant massacre.

Ron releases his hair. He stares at his friend. Hair falling in sleek curls. Hallow cheeks. Stamps of sleepless nights under chocolate eyes. Ever shaking hands. His heart beats a rapid staccato in his chest. He's losing her. As surely as Harry lost his scar, he is losing her. "Hermione! You can't. The entire lot meddle with the dark arts."

Their audience buzz. Gossip slips from lips far too use to frowning.

Hermione tries to ignore the hundreds of eyes trained on her. She lowers her hand, and wraps her arms around her torso. "You don't understand." She looks away from Harry and Ron. She trains her eye on the Great Hall's open doors.

"Ron man. Com'n. Not here." Harry stands. He pulls at Ron's arm. He shoots Hermione a look. "This Wednesday can't be that bad." Harry glances between the pair. Hermione determinedly looks away. Ron shakes his head. He jerks his arm out of Harry's grasp.

Ron snorts. An inelegant, brutish sound that Hermione knows Wednesday will never make. "The entire lot is worse than the Malfoys."

"I don't care." The words escape Hermione's lips on a breathe. Each syllable is strangled. Ron and Harry lean in to hear. Her friends. Ron's, and Harry's to some extent, affection is entirely conditional. That damned broomstick. It had started there. No it had begun even further back. First year. Nightmare. Troll. The young, eager, friend starved little girl rejected by both boys. Hermione blinks. No tears, Hermione vows. Not over Ronald Weasley. Not when Bellatrix Lestrange still haunts her dreams. "Wednesday Addams sees me. In the way no one else has, Ronald Weasley."

"So you're just gunna spread your legs for her then, are ya?"

Hermione freezes. She hisses out a breathe. Hermione tightens her fingers around her sides. She doesn't flinch when her nails bite into her flesh faintly through her robes. Hermione is a brain, but in this moment words of defense escape her.

Ron's face is red by this point. It looks horrid next to his orange hair. "Must be why Bellatrix got you on your back so easily."

Hermione leans back. She flinches. Shuts out the memory of the woman's screeches. Her black nails. Her sour breath. Hermione cannot talk. All she can do is hold back the memory. Try to prevent herself from entering full flash back mode. Deep breaths, Hermione thinks.

Ronald is still talking. Harry's voice enters the fray. The boy's face off.

"That's enough ickle Ronnikins," Fred elbows his way through the small crowd of students. Brown eyes glint. "Enough."

Ron huffs. He turns and storms off. Harry looks between both of his oldest friends. Ron livid. Hermione pale and trembling. He pivoted like a pendulum between the two. Then he remembers Hermione taking his side in fourth year, Hermione remaining at his side throughout the last brutal night, Hermione protecting him at the Malfoys. Harry stays.

"My brother's a git," Fred says. The one eared man slips a hand in his faded muggle jeans.

Hermione nods. She laughs. She's relieved it only sounds a tad hysterical.

"He doesn't deserve you." Fred places a hand on Hermione's arm.

Pain speeds up her arm at the touch. She holds in a wince. She forces herself to remain for a moment before drawing away. Normal. She couldn't bear to receive pitty. Not from a Weasley. Even a delightful one. After a very long, very painful moment, Hermione draws away.

"I—what Ronald deserves or wants doesn't matter. I'm promised." Hermione shrugs.

Fred nods. No more needs to be said. And Hermione Jean Granger is too tired, too sore, and too heartsick to converse with anyone else. Harry escorts her to the Gryffindor tower. At the girl's staircase, he kisses her forehead. The sweat, brotherly action causes pain to resonate from the spot.

That night she dreams of a moon pale girl with eyes of black obsidian. Hermione can almost touch her. It gives her hope. The day of reunion is nigh.

* * *

><p>The end...for now. :)<p> 


End file.
